


Kaylee Arafinwiel's Verses

by KayleeArafinwiel



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-17 00:40:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeArafinwiel/pseuds/KayleeArafinwiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my poetry.<br/>1. "Celeborn" - April 2011 LOTR Community Poetry challenge.<br/>2. "Of Fathers and Sons" - a sestina for Thranduil<br/>3. "Unanswered Prayers" - stream-of-consciousness, B2MEM 2011.<br/>4. Drowning<br/>5. Sisters of the Heart<br/>6. Lament for Galadriel<br/>7. An Ode to the Works of J.R.R. Tolkien<br/>8. A Pantoum for Nimloth<br/>9. An Ode To The Chosen Istar</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Celeborn

On the Lonely Isle  
A White Tree stands;

Son of Tirion on Tuna  
Where silvering strands  
Of Ithil's light gleaming

Bring now the seeming  
Of Telperion fair;  
And below sits their daughter  
Gold in her hair

Artanis Galadriel, Celeborn's wife  
Laurelin's light in her eyes  
dwells by the White Tree's side.


	2. Of Fathers and Sons (A Sestina for Thranduil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond's musings on his youngest cousin.

Of Fathers and Sons 

Who knew a child could be so mischievous?  
I did not just then. But his nobility --  
That was ordained from birth. Well-loved,  
This scion of Elmo's House, of the blood royal  
By virtue of being Oropher's child. His only son.  
I have never known a prouder father, 

Than Oropher, my kinsman, the anxious father  
Awaiting news, was ready to do himself a mischief  
"Oropher!" He flew from the council of Lindon's nobles  
Cocooned in their meeting, to his beloved  
Felith's room once released. This royal  
heir, this lord of the Sindar, Celepharn's son 

Quickly adapted to having his own baby son.  
And, more slowly, learned to be a father.  
As his golden child grew to be a mischievous  
Elfling, I saw him often; flashes of nobility  
Shone from the little one's fea. Well-loved,  
But not spoilt, though of the blood royal. 

Argil I called him when I saw him at the royal  
Court, presented alongside the Noldorin sons  
And daughters that Yule. Held by his proud father,  
I vow I could already tell the babe would be a mischief.  
It was in his blood, was it not? But so was his nobility  
Argil, Thranduil, noble star, always and forever well-loved. 

I knew then, as I know now, that the elfling is well-loved  
As he stands before the Greenwood's people, his people, in truth royalty.  
Standing between his parents, he fidgets; Oropher nudges his son  
And Thranduil blushes, casting his gaze aside, away from his father.  
This circlet will come to weigh heavily on him, I know, yet mischief  
Still lights his sapphire eyes, as he no doubt plans its demise. Nobility 

Will demand that he confess whatever he plans to do, he confess...nobility,  
Which he has, but wishes he did not. Whatever the consequence, it is love  
Behind the guarding and guiding he must and will endure. This royal  
Life will weigh heavily on my kindred, but they endure; his parents for their son,  
And Thranduil, as best he can, for his cousins, mother and beloved father.  
I would be fooling myself, however, if I thought a circlet would end his mischief. 

I know that Thranduil and mischief will go together easier than Thranduil and noble  
Duties, which the elfling will find dull, well-loved or not. My kin will not find royal  
Life easy, and one day Thranduil, too, will have a son just like his father.


	3. Unanswered Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the dark of the Dawnless Day, a father anxiously awaits news of his son.

 

 Pacing.

 

Counting the steps in my study.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

 

Turn about.

 

I cannot think...

 Unbidden, his blue eyes swim before me.

 

So like mine...

I curse the day I sent my youngest child to Imladris without me.

 

But I had to stay here.

 

"Had to"? I could have slipped my own guard.

 

I've done it before.

 

A rueful smile flickers across my face. My Chief Advisor would have had something to say about it.

  
His guard came home without him! How could he...

 

Elrond will not like it when next I see him...

Belain, keep my son safe. Keep him safe. Bring him home.

 Of course, this prayer went unanswered.

 

I paced for many days, cursing my Peredhel cousin until I could think of nothing else to call him.

 Then the letter from Lothlorien came. Cousin Celeborn's news was not good.

 Mithrandir...gone? Dead? The Balrog! And my own son saw it...

 But...he survived. He survived.

Some prayers might be answered...part way at least.

 

His own letter came in time, from Ithilien.

 

Gondor has a King. Arnor will be revived. Estel...Elrond's boy. Estel...

 

My son was a Prince in a faraway land. The King of Men had returned.

 

My son is alive, no matter where he dwells. I will go to him.

 

Guren...my heart....

 

I am coming.

 The End

 


	4. DROWNING - March 2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The One Ring is lost and found, lost and found...

  
  
It takes us, Precious, this water,  
Sinking, choking, shut in  
Down, down we fall.  
  
Stillness, quiet, but for the  
Rushing water above us.  
So still we lie.  
  
Long ages pass.  
One day our cold grave is disturbed.  
Pulled up to light, we see them.  
  
Arguing, fighting.  
Instrument of death once again.  
He commands us now, or do we command?  
  
Ah, for many years we are his Precious.  
He keeps us close, but we want our Master.  
Master is gone, so far away.  
  
Then one day, we see an opportunity.  
Here comes a small one to take us.  
And so we slip away, and hear his name...  
  
 _"Baggins! We hates it! Hates it forever!"_  
  
 _Baggins_ will take us to Master and we will rule.


	5. Sisters of the Heart - March 2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eowyn has waited long for this reunion...

Why must she take so long?  
I understand her reluctance  
To respond to the call.  
But it is time and past time.

He has gone on; there is naught  
Left to tie her down now.  
And finally, eventually she realises.  
I pace the room, waiting, watching.

The Lord of this demesne finally calls me.  
She comes! My sister, my friend.  
I enter a room filled with rose petals  
And one sad occupant.

Her grief turns to joy when she beholds me  
And we call each other's names.

"Eowyn!"

"Arwen!"

For we bound ourselves to Gondor and each other,  
As sisters of the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This poem is intentionally a reference to Fiondil's "Somewhere I  
> Have Never Travelled." Highly recommended.  
> http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=5241
> 
> ~Kaylee!


	6. Lament for Galadriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lady of Lothlorien's departure is mourned. Written in-  
> character, first-person POV, sometime in the early years of the  
> Fourth Age.

Who am I?  
  
At my birth I was immortal.  
  
Dark was I, and lovely, all the days of my life.  
  
I am a Princess in heritage, though the title is not mine.  
  
I have been accounted a Lady of one of the fairest lands imaginable  
  
I rose to be a Queen.  
  
You foresaw being a Queen once, not dark  
  
Beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night  
  
Fair as the Sea and Sun and Snow upon the Mountain  
  
Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning  
  
Stronger than the foundations of the earth  
  
All would love you and despair.  
  
So you said, and yet  
  
You refused that path when it was laid before you.  
  
I have taken the path laid before me  
  
Lady of Imladris was I, now Queen of Gondor  
  
I am the Evening and you were the Morning.  
  
What then shall I say of you, daughter of Finarfin?  
  
In your Mirror, you saw past, present and future  
  
But I tell you that you have another mirror  
  
For that mirror is myself.  
  
I, Undomiel, will bear the heirs of the Kingdom of Men  
  
While you sail into the West, diminish, and remain...  
  
Galadriel. Farewell, for we will nevermore meet.  
  
Farewell, Daernaneth. Farewell to Galadriel the Fair.  
  
We are sundered, and for that I grieve.  
  
Namarie, Artanis. Namarie, Nerwen. Alatiriel. Galadriel.  
  
You are not forgotten.


	7. An Ode to the Works of J.R.R. Tolkien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written off-the-cuff one year in celebration of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins' September 22nd shared birthday. I hope the Professor would approve :)

 

Began the tale in ancient days

Ere time began, fourteen to praise

Their Father dear, with servants bold

In mighty work, to tale unfold

 

They Sang in might, fourteen great lords

And servants too, sang in accord

Until ere long, one turned away

To Father's grief, first-thought did stray

 

And brought with him those of like mind

To mar and twist, and thought to unwind

But though he Sang with all his might

Thirteen carried the Music of Light

 

Song raged 'gainst Song, good and the bad,

Themes thrice there were laid out, but sad

Were Thirteen to realise at day's end

The Vision wrought was just that, and

 

To Be had yet then to be made,

In Ea strove they all to save

What could be saved from Brother's power

In Ages beyond measure till the hour

 

Arda wrought, and Children found

Eldar named, Orome's horn's sound

Called them forth from water's swell

To tree-lit West, there to dwell

 

Until Melkor, arising in might

Smote the Trees and cast a blight

Finwe slain, and Silmarils gone

Feanor swore to right this wrong.

 

Words he spoke of vengeance, death

And Namo lay curse on him in wrath.

For those and his followers, never return

Until they repented or rightfully earned

 

Their way back home, by sea or by death

Feanor kept to his quest until final breath.

Fiery spirit extinguished, his sons kept on,

Elu demanded of Beren to take just one.

 

A Silmaril held in Morgoth's great Crown

This he asked to bring the Mortal down.

For how could Beren live? But Luthien went

With her great love, and for Finrod sent.

 

Aran Nargothrond went with good will,

To help Barahir's kin; the oath he held still

Bound and determined he faced Morgoth to match

Song against Song, and in this attack

 

Beren and Luthien took Silmaril; flew

From Isle of Werewolves, great wolf in pursuit.

Alas, Finrod died, in the home he once held,

But Beren returned to Elu's stronghold.

 

Luthien at his side, and jewel in lost hand;

Held up bleeding stump, made King understand

The heights he would go to for Luthien fair;

Thingol gave his blessing, heart wrought with despair.

 

The Hunt of the Wolf ended in death twain,

But Mandos' heart moved to recant them; remain

In his Halls was not fate, to Arda returned,

As Mortals would be, second death they would earn.

 

Beren and Luthien's hearts were as one,

Their marriage resulted in Dior, their son,

And Thingol's Heir came in turn to rule,

Though ere long Noldor came seeking his jewel.

 

Dior and Nimloth, his Sindar Queen,

Perished with Doriath, twins lost unseen,

But Elwing and Silmaril were brought safely away

To Havens of Sirion, where they did stay.

 

Meanwhile in Gondolin, tale must be spun

Of Turgon High King, whose heir was but one.

His daughter Idril, delight of his eyes,

As Elu to Luthien, he thought her a prize

 

Beyond Mortal's touch, but was not to be

Fate wove Turgon's kingdom with destiny

Of the Half-Elven, for Tuor came there

At Ulmo's command, his news bringing fear

 

Though Turgon discounted it, prideful and stern,

But the Elven-king's friendship and love Man did earn.

Such love shown to Idril, Turgon agreed

To give his best gift to noble Tuor, indeed

 

A fateful choice, for was born of these two a child

Peredhel Earendil, future Mariner wild

Who escaped Gondolin and met Elwing in time,

Star-spray whose children continue this rhyme.

 

The Peredhel twins, Elros and Elrond

Whose separate choices made in days agone

Were bitter but necessary, as they would see

For Elros' long-son and Elrond's heirs three.

 

Of Elros' line came Numenor fair,

Whose great Men outshone other Men everywhere.

Pride went before a fall, Akallabeth shows,

But for the Faithful a fair wind did blow.

 

Seven stones, seven ships, and one White Tree

Brought from the West to the East across the Great Sea.

Elendil and his sons fought in the great War

Alongside Elrond their uncle, and Isildur swore

 

An oath not unlike that of Feanor fair

When the Great Ring he laid hold of, weregild to bear.

For his father, but soon the Ring took him too,

And Elrond mourned loss of one more nephew.

 

Besides Isildur's sons, three out of four,

The youngest, boy-king, needed Elrond more.

From that day forward, sons of Isildur's line,

With their ancestor's brother lives closely would twine.

 

Beside Elendil fell Oropher great,

Elvenking, heir Thranduil found him too late.

The young warrior came too early to crown;

But long yeni later his heir gained own renown.

 

Found in the River, the Great Ring was won

By death, vile murder, Smeagol's Precious one,

Five hundred years to sulk and to keep

New-made Gollum lurked in the dark and the deep.

 

Till one day, a Company, on a great Quest

Thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit by his cave sought rest.

The Hobbit wandered in, almost did not come out,

But by riddle-games played, turned Gollum about

 

With answerless riddle, the answer the Ring

Though he had no clue what sort of a thing

He himself had found, and hid it away

Occasionally to use, till he got home one fine day.

 

The Mad Baggins eventually adopted an heir

His cousin twice over, his birthday did share

With dear Frodo, or nephew, as he used to call

His beloved boy, who grew up in no time at all.

 

Scarce twelve years dwelt together, but Bilbo would stray

From his dear boy's side, and get well away

From Ring of old which was stretching him thin

Eleventy-one was doing him in.

 

Gandalf consulted, and Frodo was told,

And at the Party he vanished, out into the cold.

Left the Ring well behind him, for Frodo to find,

And Gandalf promised Bilbo his affairs to mind.

 

Eighteen years later, the Ring showed itself Dark

Times in the Shire were no walk in the park.

Four brave cousins, and one stouthearted friend

Came together to fight, to see to its end

 

Though only four out of five to the Outside would go;

Border-land prince and Peregrin already did know

What Frodo was doing, for Samwise had said

Halfwise he was named, but fullwise his end.

 

On their Quest young Bolger did not away

But 'twas better for Shire that Fatty did stay.

For he roused the hobbits in time of need

And did best to counter Lotho S-B's dark greed.

 

But that comes in later; in Bree Conspirators found

A ragged wandering man, suspicion abound

Who took them to Rivendell, Strider, he said

Was his name, and he was ever their friend.

 

In Rivendell came others with news;

Boromir of Gondor, Gimli Gloinson, and Legolas too.

To Elrond Peredhel the nine came on errands that varied;

But the Half-Elven insisted, and longer they tarried.

 

Nine to match Nine; the Dark Lord's Nazgul

Would be more evenly matched, and his dark tool

Must be brought to Mordor; that was without doubt

It was with some trepidation Frodo said he'd set out.

 

The Nine duly chosen; Aragorn strong,

Boromir for Gondor would then come along.

Gimli and Legolas, the Dwarf and the Elf-prince

Must settle differences, from that day hence.

 

Frodo of course was central to this,

And Sam the Stouthearted was not one to miss,

Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took

Would not leave Frodo, or themselves be forsook.

 

The Nine together set out, though in time would divide

By betrayal and death, and allegiances made.

In desperation and guilt, fealty and love,

While Frodo and Sam went on and strove

 

To travel through Mordor, with Smeagol as guide,

Who Sam greatly mistrusted, wouldn't leave Frodo's side.

They got there at last, to the top of Mount Doom,

After many trials, and there in the gloom

 

Frodo was caught up in visions of glory

Were it not for Gollum, this little story

Would have been quite different, for he took the Ring

And into the Crack himself he did fling.

 

The Ring was then gone, Sauron sent to the Void

But in destroying the One, our heroes were nearly destroyed.

The hands of a healer, are the hands of the King,

And for our noble hobbits, this was a Very Good Thing.

 

From near death they were recalled by their Strider,

Elessar Telcontar, the Renewer Envinyatar.

Aragorn or Estel to those he best knew,

And then to renew him, his Arwen came too.

 

For years and years the King of Men reigned with the Evenstar,

The Evenstar chose Luthien's gift; from the West she was barred.

Eventually to Iluvatar, Estel gave up his life,

Full of years and accomplished after long times of strife.

 

Arwen soon followed, resting on Amroth's ancient hill,

For all I know now, her body sleeps there still.

Who knows where the fea goes on after death?

Arwen Undomiel saw when she took her last breath.

 

***The End***


	8. A Pantoum For Nimloth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poem, in the form of a pantoum, spoken (or thought) by Galathil, her father (Celeborn’s younger brother) on Nimloth’s wedding day to Dior Eluchil, son of Beren and Lúthien. Written for B2MEM 2015.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aglarwen, Galathil's wife, is an OC of mine and Emma's. In our-verse, Amdir, later king of Lothlorien, is the younger brother of Nimloth and she is the firstborn child of Galathil and Aglarwen, but this poem insisted on making him the elder sibling, so I consider it AU to our main stories, lol.

Where did this child-Queen come from?  
I look upon her with tender eyes,  
And marvel that I fathered her.  
My little white blossom, my jewel—  
  
  
I look upon her with tender eyes,  
And remember days long past,  
My little white blossom, my jewel!  
It seems but yesterday, even now.  
  
  
When I remember days long past,  
She was just a babe in my arms.  
It seems but yesterday, even now,  
That my Aglarwen birthed her.  
  
  
She was just a babe in my arms,  
Our Amdir standing by my side,  
After Aglarwen birthed her,  
Our heir met Nimloth first.  
  
  
With Amdir standing by my side,  
I greeted you, my daughter,  
Amdir saw you first, Nimloth,  
Ere the rest laid eyes upon you.  
  
  
I welcomed you, my daughter,  
Knowing you would one day be a bride.  
Amdir felt deepest love for you,  
Vowing to protect you with all his heart.  
  
  
Knowing one day you would be a bride,  
We watched and waited as you grew.  
Amdir vowed to protect you with all his heart,  
We knew he would never fail his promise.  
  
  
We watched and waited as you grew,  
But never would we have expected this joining!  
Amdir never failed in his promise,  
And now the Eluchil, your husband, will keep it.  
  
  
Never did we expect this joining,  
Bringing our line together with Uncle Elu.  
The Eluchil, Dior, will keep Amdir’s promise.  
May he defend you all the days of your life!  
  
  
To join our line with Aran Thingol, Uncle Elu,  
You followed the course of your heart.  
May Dior defend you, as a husband ought!  
Live in blessed happiness, daughter mine.  
  
  
As you follow the course of your heart,  
I marvel I, Galathil, fathered you.  
May you live in happiness forever,  
My Queen, my white blossom, my  _Nimloth_.


	9. An Ode to the Chosen Istar - June 11, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in honour of Sir Christopher Lee, hand-picked by Professor Tolkien to play Gandalf, though he ended up being Saruman instead. Wes thu hal, Sir Christopher.

O Saruman the Good, Saruman the Wise!

For once you saw the world through these different eyes,

Saruman the White, as once you were to all,

The Many Colours that enveloped you at your fall,

O Curunir, Man of Skill, I mourn for what could be,

And I thank Eru that He made Sir Christopher Lee.

 

Rest in peace, good Man, for you served Him well,

_Let all Arda praise you with great praise!_

For without your gift of Shadow, would not the Light

Of star and moon blaze less boldly against the Night?

Praise him with great praise! Sir Christopher Lee,

Saruman's Voice, a great gift the One gave to thee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the rhyme scheme is broken – I did that on purpose.


	10. Finwe's Last Stand - March 21, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finwe makes his last stand. Were his final thoughts of Miriel, Indis, or the children they bore him? For B2MEM 2016.

I stand alone, before the weather-beaten door  
Sword raised in defiance, as the Enemy arrives.  
What use are swords here? He is a Power, and more.  
  
Yet here I stand. _Fly, my children!_ What is more  
Important to me, who count myself unkinged? Lives  
And deaths – many will fall someday defending the door.  
  
Back in Tirion, you wait for me. _Indis!_ My heart soars  
With love for thee and thine – _ours,_ for they thrive.  
What use the swords? The Valar are Powers, and more.  
  
Yet Melkor approaches. _Morgoth!_ Black Enemy, the score  
Shall never be settled while my sons’ sons, beloved, strive  
Though they be one day alone, before many a bloodied door.  
  
Indis, beloved, I wish I had loved thee and thy sons more,  
In living, as in dying, I should have fought for thee. I arrive  
In Mandos, passing through the doom-laden galvorn door.  
What use were swords? My hand failed; here I stand evermore.


End file.
